The Everlasting Blush Of Love
by Aurelian Girl
Summary: A passionate love story between two strangers, 25-year old American socialite & heiress, Katharine Swift & 33-year old British Viscount, Lord Henry Dryden, back in 1935, in the then Soviet Union.


Chapter 01: Henry's Point Of View:  _ "Lovers don't finally meet somewhere, they're in each other all along." -Rumi. _ *****************

I was sitting. I was eating. I was drinking water. Then I was eating again. Blowing over my hot leek and potato soup, I took a sip and let my taste buds take time to taste it properly.  
>"Hmmm... needs a bit more salt and pepper..." I thought inwardly, as I stretched my hand to the cruet stand and took the salt first. Shaking it over my soup a few times, I put it back to its place, then took the pepper, shook it over my soup just like I did before and then put it back. I stirred my spoon through the thick soup and then took a spoonful. I blew over it again and then took a sip. I let my taste buds taste them and it was better than before this time. Pleased with the soup, I kept on taking sips one by one.<br>I was sitting in the dining room, which was almost half the size of a rugby field. It had beautifully fretted double doors made of ebony. Through the double doors on the other side, you can reach the banquet hall, double the size of the dining hall. The dining hall had two sets of ornate table, made with redwood and painted in golden, with intricately carved legs. It had two types of table clothes spread over it, the bottom one being made of satin, golden in colour, but a darker shade than the table. Over it, was the muslin-made gossamer table cloth. Over the table clothes were the crockeries and cutleries set properly in front of each of the 20 chairs. The upholstered chairs had similar intricate carvings on their arms, legs and backs. The crockeries were Chinawares with willow patterns, along with silver cutleries, with the crocheted napkins having nickel napkin rings. There was a beautiful Faience vase as the centerpiece, with beautiful narcissus in them.

Beside the table I was sitting, there was another table with equal size and shape, with equal numbers of chairs with it. Both the tables and all the cushioned chairs were made of redwood, with the similar carvings and having the same table clothes. Besides the tables and chairs, there were three sets of china cabinets beside each tables, with their back to the wall. They were made of ebony wood, displaying the wide array of silverwares: English delftwares, Chinawares, Blue-dash chargers, Weesp Porcelein and Faience.

Beside the cabinets, near the two doors, were several side boards. There was an enormous chandelier suspending from the intricately designed crossbeams. The room had three bay windows with velvet curtains on both their sides. Underneath the furnitures was an enormous carpet specially ordered to be exported from Cairo, Egypt. The curtains and table clothes were made and then delivered from Istanbul.

Mable, a maid returned to take my soup bowl as I finished it and went back to the kitchen, which is about 10 feets away from where I was sitting. I took the napkin from the table and wiped it gently over my lips, cleaning it.

Fritz returned with the main course in his hand, which was rabbit ragout.

"Can you ask Eustace to make some mint sauce for me? I also want some wine sauce and some caper sauce." I told Fritz.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him cringing at my peculiar order, then glancing to the corner of the dining table, followed by walking back to the kitchen, with my order. I waited, as I made a mistake, the mistake of paying attention to my parents' verbal abuse.

"How could you do this, Bill? How could you? That too with a prostitute who's one-third of your age?! How could you stoop so low?" my mum, Theresa, yelled at my dad, William, with her reedy voice. She had bobbed-up curly dark-brown hair, with small lips and eyes that slanted upwards.  
>"Oh! I stoop so low! Scarlett's a better girl than you used to be at her age, remember? You were no better than she is! Lucky for you, you were pregnant with Henry, otherwise... otherwise I never would've married a woman of your worth. You're nothing but a gold digger!" my dad yelled back. He was a man with bullneck, unevenly set eyes, an oversized nose tip and lips with downward curves.<p>

"Hmmmm... Scarlett! Better than that previous girl dad chose last time! What was her name again? Oh yes! Lolita!" I remembered, as Fritz returned with my sauces.

"Thank you, Fritz!" I smiled ecstatically at him, which made him frown, probably thinking that I've gone mad.

In fact, I'm surprised at how I still managed to stay sane in this zoo!

"Don't you dare compare me with that skank, Bill? I'm a woman with class! Besides, I was a dancer, a very talented, very beautiful, very desirable dancer!" she yelled at my dad again.

"You mean, just like Mata Hari? Nothing but a two-faced woman!" he yelled back.

"I'm two faced! Huh! At least I don't sleep with women old enough to be your daughter, you shameless b******!" yelled she.

"I'm shameless! You're a shameless w****, who didn't hesitate for a single moment before sleeping with a man before marriage, you b****!" my dad yelled back again.

"You're a son of a b****!" my mum shouted at my dad.

"Do not address my mother that way! Remember, she was the one who got you married to me! Else you'd have rotten in a dump with your son!" my dad shouted back.

"Oh, please! She did so to escape the scandal you created by making me pregnant!" retorted my mum.  
>"Don't act like you're innocent and better than me, Theresa! Don't forget about your 'secret' affair with that b****** Rob!" my dad's voice was getting louder.<p>

"Do not utter Rob's name in your rotten, reeky, obnoxious mouth! He's a much better lover than you ever were!" my mum warned him.  
>"Then why don't you go marry that man-w****!" said my dad, his voice getting louder.<br>I remembered Rob, aka Robert. Robert Lopez, the secret lover of my mum whom she met 7 years ago in a nightclub. After succeeding into seducing my mum, he managed to get a job in our property as the new stable man. He is a Peruvian, who used to work and live with prostitutes, until he met my mum. 6 years ago, he was imprisoned for violating, then murdering a woman by strangling her viciously. But mum pulled some strings and released him. He's still a dipsomaniac and a gambler, who keeps on taking money for his luxurious lifestyle, to buy more and more alcohol and to pay off his debts. My mum secretly visits him at the Lambeth flat that she'd bought for him. She's still under the impression that dad and I don't know anything about it, but we do.

"The same reason why you can't divorce me, you crackpot!" my mum shouted at him.

"Don't you dare call me a crackpot! If I'm a crackpot, then you're a black widow! You've usurped me and contaminated my life! You've also tainted my son's life!" my dad angrily punched on the table.

"I didn't contaminate my son's life! It was all you! Because of your absence and your polluted character! Ask him!" she yelled at him.  
>"Yes! Yes! Do that!" my dad yelled back.<br>Bugger! Now they're dragging me into this!  
>I was on my way to finish my main course, when my dad finally turned to me and asked,<p>

"Henry! Son, tell us! Who do you reckon had contaminated your life?" asked he, his voice suddenly back to normal.  
>"Henry! Sweetheart, I'm your mother. I've given birth to you. Do you really think I could've tainted your life?" her voice was also the same.<p>

By then, I've already finished my meal. I silently wiped my mouth with the napkin, put my hand up to call Fritz here to take away my plate, as I stood up.

"Son, you didn't give us an answer. Who is it?" my dad asked me again. I ignored him, as I started walking towards the exit.  
>"Henry?! Henry, stop there this instant!" his voice was all serious and angry now. I stopped and turned to face them. They were looking at me eagerly, expecting an answer in their favour.<br>"My answer is... both of you!"  
>Saying so, I turned and walked out of the dining room, not bothering to wait for dessert.<br>I headed to my room, which was in the second floor, not very far. I saw Ernest, one of my servants, coming out from the library room, with a brush and a dustpan in his hands.

"Ernest, find Derek and tell him to get the car ready. I'm going to Patrick's wedding reception in 15 minutes." I ordered Ernest, while ascending the stairs and heading to my room. He nodded, as he approached towards the servants' quarter, with my order.  
>I went into my room, and then straight to the closet. I opened the doors, looking for a suitable suit to wear at the reception, and when I finally found one, I quickly put it on, combed my spiked hair a bit and then put on my shoes.<br>By the time I came downstairs, dad was going to the library room. He gave me a glare once, but I easily ignored it, as I took my hat and overcoat from Ernest and went near the car.

"Good evening, sir." Derek greeted me, as I got in.  
>"Good evening. Now let's go." I said, point-blank.<p>

After starting the engine, Derek drove the car to Patrick's house. Had my Eastern London flat not had its roof collapse due to some sort of water damage, I wouldn't have to come and live here with my parents. I'd moved to that flat 15 years ago and never bothered to visit my parents, not even during the holidays. I'd have stayed at a hotel now, but my parents' scandalous marriage didn't let me, because had I done that, the vulturous journalists might've written something as such:

'Still-Unmarried Viscount Henry Dryden's Been Living In A Hotel Despite His Own Home In London!: Like Father, Like Son! No Surprise There!', which would undoubtedly sell like a hot cake.

On the way, I couldn't help but take a good look at my miserable, mundane, mediocre, 33-years of life.

It all started when my dad, William Malcolm Wilfrid Dryden, met my mum, Theresa Anna Fletcher, in a nightclub, 34 years ago. At the time, my 17-year old dad was dead drunk and my mum was a 17-year old desperate dancer, who was ready to sleep with my womanizer dad without having any second thoughts.

For it being nothing but a one night stand for both of them, after that night, they didn't feel the necessity to contact each other, until my mum discovered something life-changing.

She discovered that she was pregnant, with me and soon realized who the biological father was. She contacted my dad, who was helping my grandfather, Earl Anthony Cambden Ragner Dryden, at the time, in taking care of our family business as well as the estate we'd gained for our title.

When my dad, my grandfather and my grandmother, Victoria Eléanor Dryden, learnt about it, they had no choice but to get my mum and dad married, as soon as possible. Though they managed to hide the skeleton back then, they somehow failed to bury the hatchet between my parents. Despite despising both my parents after that, my grandparents never hated me.

After I was born, out of love, they named me after Earl Henry Dryden the First, the first Earl of our family. They loved me a lot, constantly showering me with affection and love that I never received from my parents. During summer and winter vacations, I used to stay with them in our summer cottage in Scotland, and our winter abode in Wales respectively. Till date, to me, they are my real parents, for their love for me never ceased to gush over everything they did for me. They loved me so much, that on my 1st birthday, they made a will, stating that they had given me 75% of their property, which was worth 2.5 million pounds then. As a form of punishment for their deeds, they'd given my parents 12.5% of their property with some more strict rules to abide by.

Since my birth, I've acquired my shares of property, but until I become 18, they'll remain under the care of my legal guardian, which was my godmother and my aunt Greta.

After I became 18, I acquired the right to use my property, but I'll not be able to donate or give away any of my property, save for money. I'll only be able to donate or use any amount of money without exceeding 7,000 pounds a year. If I break this rule, I'll not be able to use my money or property for 6 months.

With that, my grandparents did something more to prove their smartness too, for they also stated that, if any one of my parents ever give a divorce to the other, they'll not get a single penny. Not only that, if they ever beget another child, who'd be my half-siblings in any way, they'll not get anything from the share they've left for me.

To ensure that I never follow my parents' footsteps, they also stated that, after my death, only my legally wedded wife and my biological children of my legally-wedded wife, will get my shares. If I shall die unmarried, and without any off-spring, my property will be divided into numerous sections.

40% of it will be given to my relatives save for my parents, 15% to numerous charitable organizations, 12% to churches and the rest would go under the authorization of the government.  
>After this will came out, my parents were very angry with my grandparents, calling it betrayal, telling everyone everywhere that they were wronged. My dad even threatened my grandfather that he'd sue him for this.<p>

As counter-threat, my grandfather told him that he'd tell everyone that he'd slept with a prostitute and had brought shame to this family. My dad backed out then.

My grandparents were alive only for a few years after I turned 5, for my grandfather died of a heart attack, when I was 6 and grandmother died a year later, suffering from tuberculosis. The day I lost my grandmother, was the day I felt as if I'd become an orphan. Just like previously, my parents were still of no use.

During my childhood years, all I saw was fight, fight and fight. Sometimes they led to physical abuse. I used to close my door and hide in my closet, crying my eyes out, scared like an abandoned cattle. They were at first, very traumatic.  
>As years went by, I became close to my maids and servants and got to know them much more than I'd ever got to know my parents.<p>

To avoid fights, dad stopped coming home more, probably spending nights in his Western London flat, or in late-night business meetings, or in parties.

Mum, at first, spent the nights at home, but later, when she found ways to cheat back on her cheating husband, she stayed home less.  
>As for me, I was lonely at first, roaming around the house the way a lost, motherless cattle does at the time of dusk. One of my maids, Esther, being smarter than the others, suggested my mum to hire a governess for me.<p>

Loretta Flemming was hired as my governess then. She worked for my parents until I turned 4, teaching me how to read and write, and introducing me to the English and French alphabets. But she was coerced to quit after she got married. At that time, my grandparents were still alive. During each summer, they used to take me to our summer cottage in Scotland, where learnt to swim when I was 5.

My grandfather was a big fan of fly-fishing and golf. There was an enormous lake there, where, after my grandfather died, my grandmother took me and watched me swim. Her then-butler, Reuben, served her tea, while she smiled at me, when I'd be laughing and having fun.  
>During winter, they used to take me to our winter abode in Wales. My grandmother used to make my favourite savoury dish, Ratatouille with French bread for me. Despite having crow's feet and saggy cheeks, she'd still looked beautiful. If anyone ever calls me handsome and good-looking, which everyone always does, then it's all thanks to her and her good-looks only. She'd tuck me in bed and kiss my forehead, before saying, 'Goodnight, sleep tight; don't let the bedbugs bite.'. But those words never scared me. Instead, I used to giggle and it used to make her smile...<br>"Beep! Beep! Beep!" the horn that was coming from the car behind made me come out of my daydream. I saw that our car was at the entrance, blocking other cars to enter while Derek was calling me.

"Mr. Dryden? Sir? Wake up. We're here!" he was saying. I quickly put on my hat, as Derek held the door open for me.  
>"Sorry, Derek." I apologized.<p>

"It's fine, sir. No worries." he assured me, as he got inside the car and quickly drove it to the parking area. I took a deep breath, as I turned and headed towards the entrance.

It was my best friend, Patrick's wedding. Patrick Dalgliesh Browning, my best mate from Cambridge. He used to be my roommate too. After 12 years of graduation, we still remained friends.

As I entered the ball room, a servant took my hat and coat, while welcoming me in. It was the ball room of the Browning Manor, almost as enormous as the ball room of the Dryden Manor, but not as grandly decorated. It had two sets of chandelier suspending from the crossbeams and a bar set on my left for the guests' alcoholic merriment, with stools around it. The guests were scattered everywhere, while my eyes scanned the room, scouring for some familiar faces.

"Henry!" a familiar voice called my name from behind. I turned and saw Vincent, another best mate of mine from Cambridge. He had weak jawlines, lips with upward carves and a innocent, round face. All his facial features featured his soft, innocent, naive personality. Had he been born as a woman, his personality would've been as naive and innocent as Shakespeare's Lucrece or Beth from 'Little Women'.

"Vince!" I smiled brightly, as I loosely hugged him back.

"Long time no see, isn't it, mate?" he started the conversation, as we got inside.

"Yes. I didn't know you were back from...uh..." I couldn't remember.

"New Zealand, mate. I arrived London two days ago." said he, as we looked for Patrick.  
>"When did you arrive here? Are Sarah and the kids here too?" I asked him, while walking towards the small stage made for the bride and groom and craning my neck around to, my eyes scouring for Sarah.<p>

"They're here, also. Sarah's with Olivia and Emelia now. They're with the kids, who are playing in the garden now. I was just with them." replied Vincent.

"How are you doing these days?" I asked, as we headed towards the bride and groom. We joined the long queue.

"Fine! But Audrey's driving us mad!" he made a face.

Sarah was his wife, whom he'd married 6 years ago and had three kids with her, 5-year old twins, Declan and Delilah and eleven months old Audrey. It was his youngest daughter, who was now driving him mad.

Despite chuckling surreptiously at his misery, he caught me red-handed.

"Laugh all you want now. Wait till you become a father. Then I'll be the one to laugh at your misery, mate!" he retorted.  
>"Actually, to become a father, I'll first need to marry someone and that's something I'll never do!" I muttered.<br>"Still don't believe in love, eh, mate?" asked he.  
>"Yes. Lucky me!" I said.<br>"Do you still keep contact with Charlotte?" he asked, as we were the next two to congratulate the newly-weds.  
>"No. She doesn't want to." I said, as we approached towards the newlywed couple.<br>"Congratulation, Patrick!" said we, as he was done shouting, "Henry! Vince! My old pals!" to us. Patrick was always the noisy one, the talkative one. His dark curly hair, and oblong jawline were the best features in his face.  
>"Meet my beautiful wife, Jacqualine." he certainly seemed happy.<p>

"We already know Jacqualine. Remember Dresden?" Vincent reminded him.

"Ignore him! How do you do?" Jacqualine politely asked us. She was a red-headed woman, with medium height and almond eyes.  
>"Oh! They're doing fine! Aren't you, bas'turd's?" replied Patrick, on behalf of us, using his usual way of addressing us.<br>"Right?" he asked us, leaning forward to us for an answer.

"Of course!" replied Vincent.

"Well, now that I'm married, it's Henry's turn now! When can we hear the good news, mate? When are you marrying Charlotte, hmm?" asked Patrick, turning to me.  
>"Um..." I cleared my throat before answering. Vincent looked at me, feeling sorry, but I ignored it and clearly said, "We broke up, just a few months ago." I heard Patrick gasp.<br>"Why?!" he sounded surprised.  
>"Didn't they see it coming? Not one of them?!" I thought inwardly, as I replied,<p>

"We both wanted different things from life and in life partners, so..." I stopped.

"Well, I wish you the best, mate. And hopefully soon, you'll find your future wife." he wished for me, but I wished for the opposite inwardly.  
>"Well, we should go for now. But, congratulation and best of luck, to both of you." I wished for them, as Vincent and I got off the stage.<br>"Blimey! That was something!" I thought inwardly, as I went near the bar, to get a drink. Vincent came after me, worried.  
>"Are you alright, mate?" asked he, sympathy in his voice.<p>

"What is wrong with you lot? I'm fine! Quit feeling sympathetic for me!" I was a bit annoyed now. I took a seat at the bar, so did Vincent. We both ordered for a glass of Chardonnay.  
>"Look, mate. Don't be annoyed. We're just trying to look out for you, that's all. I mean, I'm married and father of three. Patrick's finally married now. Aidan's married and father of three, probably having a fourth one on the way, so is Nate. All your mates are married and having kids, save for you! We just thought that it might upset and frustrate you!" said he, softly, as he took his drink.<p>

"Well, I'm not. I'm not unhappy. I'm not upset. Am I moping? Am I looking sad? No, I'm not! Quit worrying for me!" I said, taking my drink from the bartender.

We were quiet for a while, silently supping from our drinks, before I started the conversation.  
>"Look, mate, I'm sorry. I know you're worrying for me out of habit. But you have to understand. I'm happy. Trust me, I'm happy being single. Don't waste your time worrying about this old chap." I said, trying to make him understand.<p>

"As you say, mate." he shortly replied, intentionally heaving a sigh of despair afterward.  
>I heaved a sigh in exasperation, as I started to defend myself.<p>

"You know my parents' marriage was a total calamity, right? Well, I spent my entire childhood and adolescence watching them fight, without having anyone around to explain what love and marriage actually are in the real world, among other couples. My grandparents died before I reached the proper age to understand all these. I had no one. Yes, I've read heaps of books about these things, but you need real life examples to truly believe in all these! While you lot grew up watching your parents' perfect love and marriage, I grew up watching a train wreck. They used to fight all the bloody time! Sometimes they even fought physically! But do you know the worst part? The worst is that there's no escaping from this! Everywhere I go, I still have to return to those cruel, heartless people somehow, who claim themselves to be my bloody parents!" I punched on the bar top. Thankfully, no one else saw or heard, but it had its effects on Vincent, who was quiet now. Knowing that he would, I turned to him.  
>"Now tell me, how do you expect someone like me, who grew up amidst all these violence, to believe in 'happily ever after' and 'true, deep love'?" I asked him, point blank.<p>

"I'm sorry, Henry." he muttered apologetically, looking down at his drink.

"I'm really, really sorry. I forgot." he apologized politely then. "It's alright, mate." I said, clapping lightly on his back.

"Did I mention that they were still fighting when I was leaving to come here?" I said.  
>"Really?! Jesus! I'm so sorry, mate. What were they fighting about this time?" he asked.<p>

"Um...some mistress of dad." I said, carefully hiding about the whole rumour of pregnancy thing.  
>"I'm so sorry, mate." he apologized again.<p>

"Before coming here, they stopped me and actually asked me to choose the 'ideal' parent between them?!" I said, smiling sarcastically and grimacing then.

"Hmmm... I can guess what your answer was." he muttered apologetically.

"Yeah. They're the most terrible human being I've ever seen! I swear, if it wasn't a sin to call your parents bad names, then I'd have done it!" I said, looking down at my sparkly drink .

"Oi, you ol' reeky lots! What're you doing here by yourselves, huh?" Aidan suddenly appeared out of nowhere and thumped on our back abruptly. His abrupt thump made both of us cough out and spill out our drinks, thankfully, on the bar top. The bartender turned to us, furrowing his brows at us, then approaching to us with a piece of cloth to wipe it off of the top.

"Aidan!" Vincent addressed him, coughing, annoyed mostly.

"Sorry about that! How are you two b******s, huh? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?" he exclaimed in joy, as he rested his sinewy arms over our shoulders, weighing us down.  
>Aidan Aloysius Villiers Garfield was a muscle man, with 6'2" height, curly hair, square shoulder, athletic torso, massive, massive sinewy muscles, fleshy nose-tip and jawline which was wider than the ear-lines.<br>"Hey, mate!" I stood up and loosely hugged him, as he hugged me back lightly, knowing if he hugged me tightly, it might break my ribs and damage my backbone.

"I'm fine! Hey, Vinnie!" he shook his hands with Vincent, as Vincent never took the risk of hugging him.

"Hey fellas!" Nate addressed us, a bit more apart, walking towards our direction.

"Hey Nate!" both Vincent and I stood up and greeted him back simultaneously.  
>Nathaniel Alleyne Cavendish was the know-it-all among us. After him, I was the know-it-all bloke in our group. He was a blond, with innocent, naive triangular face, that would remind you of the innocence beagles and St. Bernards'. He was a bit shorter than I, almost the same height as Vincent. Nate's glasses looked bigger than they did the last time.<br>"Good Lord, Nate! Did you change your glasses again?" asked Vincent, frowning at his glasses.

"You noticed!" he seemed happy about it being brought up. "I've got a promotion!" added Nate in joy, smiling.  
>"Congratulation!" I said, as he took a seat next to me, ordering for his usual drink, soda with ice.<br>"What about you, Aidan? Anything new in your life?" I asked him, as he took a stool to sit down, and ordered for a drink.  
>"Well...I've got the citizenship of the Soviet. From now on, I'm also a Russian citizen!" said he, grinning brightly, before taking a sip.<br>"That's great, Aid!" asked Vincent, happy for him.  
>"Vincent? Vincent?" we all heard Sarah's voice, calling for Vincent, as she appeared from the crowd. She was a golden blonde, pigeon-toed woman, wearing dark brown silk gown.<p>

"I need you to take Declan to the restroom. He spilled his juice all over his shirt. I'm busy with Delilah and Maudie's with Audrey. Will you go and wash him over, please? Oh hello, boys!" she addressed us, before instructing Vincent, as we addressed her back.

"I'll be right back, fellas!" Vincent glumly said farewell to us.  
>"Perhaps I should go with you, mate." Nate stood up, leaving his drink behind, and they both disappeared immediately with Sarah.<p>

"He'll never change! Such a hen-pecked man!" I commented, grinning, as Aidan took Vincent's seat next to me.

"That's Vince!" shrugged he, as he took a sip from his drink.

"So, what's the latest happening in your life? Don't tell me you've also got married and became father of 4 already?!" asked he, still giggling.  
>"No. Same old, same old." I answered, taking a sip from my drink.<br>"Anyone new in your life after Charlotte, mate?" asked he.  
>During my break-up with Charlotte, only Aidan and Nate were here, in Britain. Patrick and Vincent were in South Africa, as one owns a diamond mine there and the other had some business related to farming.<p>

At that time, these two supported me, when my own parents didn't. In fact, although we were best mates from university, after becoming friends with them, I actually felt as if I could finally feel comfortable and accepted; and despite our differences in characters, we all get along just fine.  
>"No, no words from her. I wrote her twice, but she didn't reply. Instead, her father, Isaac, scolded me in his reply on her behalf. After that, I also backed out."<p>

"Well, I trust your decision, mate. You've always made the right ones. We never forgot, among all of us, you were always the sensible one, the realist one, also the pessimist one." said he, lightly clapping on my back.  
>"Well, tell me, Aid, how come you got the citizenship of the Soviet so easily? I didn't know you were interested in becoming a Russian citizen?" I asked him, frowning.<p>

"I'm not! You know I'm an architect, right? So, about a year and a half ago, I got an offer from some honourable comrade from the USSR. He wrote me a letter in English, asking me if I could design his winter 'castle'. He offered me to pay a very handsome amount of money, plus citizenship of his country, so that I can build more buildings there. I said 'yes' and he kept his promise. I got richer! Moreover, I got the citizenship. I got to tell you, mate, Russia's very pretty. Pretty as a picture! The cities, especially Moscow and Leningrad. I've only visited those two so far, but I can tell, the rest is also good! The people might be a bit peculiar, comparing to us, but so are we to them. I'm going there on a trip tomorrow. I've got two tickets, but Emelia can't go there, because my mother in-law suddenly fell ill. She had chicken pox. So, Emelia needed to take care of her. I'm on my own now, I reckon." he stopped now, to take a sip.  
>We were quiet now, supping from our drinks.<p>

"Hey, I've got a brilliant idea!" Aidan suddenly exclaimed in joy.

"What? What is it?" I asked, not at all surprised by his sudden mood change. I'm used to his mood changes, as it was common for Aidan.  
>"Why don't you come with me?!" he told me, excited.<p>

"Um..." I was confused.

"Oh, come on, Henry, please! It'll be fun! I know you're not busy, I can tell. Come with me. I gurantee you, mate, you'll love it!" he requested.  
>"I've been to better places than Russia. What makes you so sure I'll love it there?" I asked, amused by his remarks.<br>"I'm telling you, mate! It's my sixth sense! I can tell, it'll change your life!" he exaggerated.  
>"Fine! I'll think about it."<p>

"You'll have until 10 o'clock, tomorrow. Our flight to Leningrad will depart at 11:30am. So, you must hurry, mate."  
>To be honest, I've just returned home from Canada, where I'd gone there for two weeks, visiting only Toronto, Montreal and Vancouver. I did so, mostly to get away from my parents and their constant fights, but also to follow my doctors' advice. I thought perhaps, finally I can get some solace.<p>

After my paralyzing accident, I've been travelling a lot more than before. Not only because all my friends are getting married and getting busy in both their family and professional lives, which is making me lonelier and lonelier, but also, I was travelling so much to recover from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  
>After the accident, this was the thing that made me frustrated, depressed, angry and lonely, all of which led to my break-up with Charlotte, my ex-fiancée.<br>"So, I'll be waiting for your call until 10 o'clock tomorrow, yes?" Aidan lightly nudged me in my ribs.  
>"Huh? Oh, yes." I answered. Aidan noticed my absent-mindness, but let it go, unlike Nate or Vincent.<br>"Look who's back!" said Nate, as he returned with Vincent.

"How was the restroom experience?" joked Aidan.

"Haha! Very funny! Hilarious! I must do something to help Declan overcome the fear of using restrooms outside his home!" Vincent shook his head, as he took a seat beside us.  
>"Oi! What is this, huh? Do you find this some type of college reunion? Huh?" Patrick appeared out of nowhere and started shouting at us, for sitting around and drinking soft drinks.<p>

"For God's sake! You lot are only 33! Get up and get some hard drinks! This is my wedding reception. I couldn't have all you beasts around at the time of my stag party, but I won't let you oldsters ruin my wedding reception too!" saying so, he ordered the bartender five glasses of mountain dew, neat, on the rocks, for us.  
>"Oi, Henry! Why aren't you growing a moustache yet?! Huh? You're 33 now!" Patrick suddenly asked me, making Vincent, Aidan and Nate look at me.<br>"I hate them, that's why!" I shrugged non-chalantly.

"You hate moustache?!" Aidan acted as if someone told him that I've just swallowed a bowl of lard.

"Yes! What's wrong with that?!" I asked, although I knew the answer.

"You can't be a man if you hate moustache! Not mostly now, when moustaches are a very, very popular trend among English men. What's wrong with you, Henry?" said Aidan, eying me as if I'm joker from a circus.

"Look, mate, I just don't fancy moustaches, or beard, in any form. I like my clean-shaven face. Even if it doesn't attract girls, I still fancy it. I don't care if it's not the recent trend. I'll do whatever the hell I fancy." I retorted, not caring what they might think at all.  
>"Are you saying you'll still remain clean-shaved when you'll turn, let's say, 70 or 80?" asked Vincent.<br>"I don't know. I haven't thought that far. Perhaps I will, perhaps I won't. Perhaps I'll grow a beard when I'll turn 40, or 50. Who knows?" I grimaced and shrugged.

"Unbelievable! You'll grow a moustache when you'll turn 40 or 50! Why not now? What's wrong with now, when's it's the trend?!" asked Aidan, surprised.  
>"Yeah! Look, look, even our puny scientist, Nate has a moustache! It's puny like him, but at least you can call it one!" Patrick dragged Nate by his arm closer to show his 'puny' moustache.<p>

"Um, actually, the reason why I started growing one is because Liv fancies men with moustaches. So..." he shrugged bashfully.  
>"Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!" Aidan and Patrick burst out laughing, while Vincent and I chuckled quietly. Nate quickly flushed, which extended the laughing and chuckling even more.<p>

Olivia Cavendish née Whitehead was Nate's wife, whom he'd met 14 years ago, at a pub, thanks to us. I hatched a plan to financially help Vincent to buy tickets for the annual May Ball, but it also brought Nate and Olivia together. They both got married 9 years ago and have so far, had 6 kids; 4 girls and 2 boys.  
>"So, Nate, you mean to tell us how much you worship your wife and the ground she walks on! You're so hen-pecked! So uxorious!" Patrick started laughing again.<p>

"Oh please! Wait till I tell everyone how tears rolled down your cheeks when Jacqualine was hurting from her fracture two months ago, or how Aidan wore the hideous tie that Emelia had gifted him, the one which had funny bunny faces on them!" revealed Nate, with a crooked smile on his face. Patrick and Aidan froze at this.

"You're not supposed to tell anyone!" Patrick hissed at Nathan, who was smiling victoriously now.  
>"And besides, I wasn't crying! There was something in my eyes from playing polo that day!" Patrick tried to defend himself, while Aidan said,<br>"Yeah! And in my case, that wasn't my tie, it was Leon's! I accidently wore it, you know, as I was in a hurry on my way to a very important meeting."  
>"Yeah! Yeah! Say all you want, we know the truth, right fellas?" Nate looked at the rest of us, Vincent and I, for support.<br>"Yes, of course. Patrick and Aidan are very much in touch with their feminine sides..." and we burst out laughing then.  
>"Pat, it's time to cut the cake, dearie." Patrick's mum, Mrs. Caroline Browning softly told him, as we quickly assembled our positions and straightened ourselves up.<p>

"Yes, mother. I'll be right with you." replied Patrick, like a good boy.  
>"Wow! Your mum is suddenly soft on you! Did you do anything good, like really good?" asked Aidan, surprised.<br>"Yeah, I did. I got married!" joked Patrick, as we approached to the center of the hall.  
>After both Patrick and Jacqualine cut the cake, we all thought Patrick might do something mischvieous, as per his nature.<br>"What if he shoves the cake in Jacqualine's mouth?" Vincent made a guess.

"Or eat the cake himself and not feed her?" I assumed.

"Or worse! Spread it all over her red lips and ruin her make-up?" guessed Aidan.

But we were all proven wrong. Instead, he gently fed her the piece and on top of that, while feeding her, he gently placed his left palm under her jaws, to catch any bits and pieces that might drop on her white gown; also after he gently fed her, he picked up the napkin and carefully and gently wiped her lips, wiping it clean.

"Huh! I guess love does change people!" retorted Aidan, as I agreed with him. We were all given a piece, as soon we'd be asked to go join the dinner banquet.

"Henry? Henry Dryden?" a familiar female voice called my name from behind, while I was standing in a corner, being a wallflower and enjoying another piece of the delicious Vanilla Chiffon cake, as my friends got busy dancing with their spouses. I turned and recognized the face of the voice.

The curly bobbed-up honey-blonde hair with dark roots and golden tints, broad temples and the deep-set doe eyes, with eternal innocence, loyalty and serenity in there, it was Charlotte! Charlotte Cassidy, my ex-fiancée, with whom I'd abruptly broken up last year, during my 'Post Traumatic Stress Disorder' period.  
>I knew I'd broken her heart by doing so, but I had no choice. I had to. The loving look she gave me each time she looked at me, I wasn't bloody blind. I saw it! I saw the bloody love she had for me. I saw it, right there, in those doe-eyes. It was crystal clear. I saw, but unfortunately, I couldn't reciprocate those feelings, at least not genuinely. I tried! Believe me, I did. I gave my 100% shot at this, to feel the same way for her, but I couldn't! I tried to put aside my aversion to love and marriage and tried my very best to love her romantically, but for some unknown reason, I couldn't step over the 'platonic' threshold.<br>After my fatal accident, which threatened to paralyze me for the rest of my life, I was constantly being rude to her. She spent her days and nights, burning the candle at both ends, in my house, by my side, by my bed, taking care of me and doing everything I 'ordered' her to do; feeding me, changing my clothes, giving me my medicines in time, helping me exercise, bathing me and what not. I never used the words 'please', 'kindly' or 'thank you' in any of the sentences I'd used at the time. And then, one afternoon, she got a little late to bring me some hot soup.  
>When she returned, being just a minute or two late, I rudely threw the bowl on the floor when she offered it to me, burning her toenails and started yelling and screaming at her, calling her irresponsible and blaming her for my miseries. She stood there, silently gulping every harsh word I threw at her and crying silently without a word.<p>

And then, after calling her a bad name, I broke up with her! Just like that! "We're over! Get out!" were the words I had used, while breaking up with her. Without wasting a single moment in my room, after begging me relentlessly to take her back, she stormed out of my room, not looking back.  
>"It really is you!" said Charlotte, while walking towards me.<p>

"Charlotte!" I addressed her, clearing my throat while there were butterflies in my stomach, as she stopped and stood facing me.  
>"What a pleasant surprise! But what are you doing here?" I frowned, trying to remember if Patrick ever had any connection with Charlotte, other than me.<br>"I'm here with Michael. He's Jacqualine's father's business partner." she informed me.  
>"Who's Michael?" I asked, frowning again.<p>

"Michael, Michael Campbell, my husband." she replied.  
>"You're married now?!" I was truly surprised.<p>

"Yes." she smiled shyly. She looked really happy.

"When did you get married?! I didn't know!" I asked.

"Well, about two months ago, last June! We got married in Greece and had our honeymoon there too." she was smiling, looking really happy.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I wanted to send an invitation, but my parents forbade me to do so. And you were in Canada then, so I couldn't write to you or call you up either." she explained.

"Well, congratulations! I'm happy for you!" I really was.

All these time, I was feeling guilty, as I broke her heart pretty badly. I was worried, anxious that as she was still not replying my letters back, she must still be in a miserable condition, all because of me.  
>"Thank you! I knew you'll be." she smiled again.<p>

"Well, you didn't invite me to your wedding, but at least have the decency to introduce me to your hubby now!" I scoffed her lightly, as she smiled shyly again.

"You're right! Where are my manners?!" she turned her head to the hall, looking for her 'hubby'.  
>"There you are, darling!" suddenly a husky, masculine voice said from the other side. We both turned our heads and saw a tall, dark-haired, slender man walking towards us.<br>"Oh! Speak of the Devil..." Charlotte bashfully muttered under her breath, as the man came closer, and wrapped his hands around her waist.  
>"What're you doing here, darling? I was looking for you everywhere! Come, let's dance. I'm dying to dance with you, sweet pea!" he pulled Charlotte to the dance floor, but she stopped him.<p>

"Michael, there's someone I'd like you to meet. Michael, this is Henry Dryden. Henry, this is Michael, the love of my life, my husband." she introduced us to each other, as I saw the same, probably deeper, more profound love for him in her eyes, as she looked at him. It gave me a huge sigh of relief.  
>"Oh! Nice to meet you, Mr. Dryden. Finally, a face to the name!" he commented, smiling.<br>"You know me?!" I frowned in surprise.

"I know about your engagement with Charlie. She told me. It's fine, don't despair. I don't feel any hatred towards you, or anything else." he assured me.  
>"Look, Charlotte, I know I've done terrible things to you. Can you and Michael forgive me for that?" I suddenly apologized, out of nowhere. Charlotte was caught off-guard by my abrupt apology, but Michael wasn't.<p>

"Like I said, Mr. Dryden, no worries. My Charlie has a big heart. She forgave you months ago, thanks to me, of course!" he lightly joked, while smiling. Charlotte sweetly smiled now, blushing.  
>"In fact, Mr. Dryden, I'm grateful to you, for breaking up with Charlie. Had you not broken up with her, I might've never found my sweetheart. So, thank you very much, Mr. Dryden, for paving the way to finding my sweet Charlie!" he thanked me, still smiling.<p>

"Well, that's a relief! Anyway, I should let you two go, and dance. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Campbell." I said, shaking his hands.  
>"Call me Michael, please, I insist. And the feeling's mutual, mate. Let's go, darling!" they both waved at me gaily and disappeared into the crowd.<br>"Was that Charlotte? And who's the man with her?" Nate asked me, appearing out of nowhere and holding two glasses of champagne in his hand.  
>"Her husband." I shortly replied, taking a glass from him.<p>

"Her husband?! She got married?! When?!" asked Nate, his eyes wide open, really surprised by all this.

"A few months ago, last summer I think, in Greece. His name is Michael Campbell." I informed him, before taking a sip from the champagne.  
>"Blimey! Charlotte's married! That too in just in a year after her break-up with you! That was fast!" he said, as he took a sip from his champagne.<br>"So?" I asked, annoyed by his skeptical tone.

"Hey! Hey! Don't be angry! I was just making a comment, alright?" he tried to defend himself.

"Whatever, mate, I don't care. But I'm happy for her. I thought that after me, she might never date or marry anyone, and might decide to live the life of a spinster, but thank God, she didn't!" I heaved a sigh a breath of relief. I took another sip of the champagne, as we went near the bar.  
>While taking a sip, I realized Nate was observing me, trying to find any signs that might indicate that I'm making that comment as a consolation.<br>"What?" I sounded annoyed.

"Nothing. I, um, I'm feeling a bit stifled, a bit suffocated. Do you want to come with me outside and um, take, uh, you know, an evening walk with me?" he stuttered a bit.

"Sure! Why not?" I quickly put the glass down on the bar, anything to assure him that I'm fine with Charlotte's marriage.

Through the crowd, we headed for the exit when,

"...Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Where do you think you're going, huh?" Patrick was grabbing Nate's arm, scowling at both of us.  
>"Um, outside. Why?" I was confused, so was Nate.<p>

"It's time for dinner, mate. Didn't you hear the bell?" he gestured to the cadaverous-faced butler of them, Angus, with pasty complexion, who was ringing a bell at the entrance of the banquet hall.

"Listen, um, I already ate, um, before coming here. So sorry, mate!" I told him meekly.  
>"What?! You already had dinner! What about my wedding reception dinner? I let you skip my wedding, but now this too?! This is too much, Henry!" Patrick was angry now.<p>

"I know, I know! I'm sorry, Patrick. But what can I do, I'm already full! If I join the dinner, then my stomach will burst! You don't want that, do you?" I tried to reason with him.

"Fine. But you must join us for dessert. Can you make a little room in your stomach for that?" asked Patrick, expecting an answer from me.  
>"Yes, I can do that." I replied.<p>

"Well, you knew I wouldn't be joining you for dinner, like I had told you before, because of my gastric problems, so can I go?" asked Nate, smirking. After a nod, Patrick headed towards the entrance of the banquet hall.

"Let's go, then!" I said to Nathan, as we headed towards the exit.

"So, how's life going, my friend?" Nate suddenly asked, as we walked to the backyard of Patrick's house.  
>"Why do you ask that?" I contracted my brows, as I put my hands inside my pant pockets.<p>

"Just...um, out of curiosity, you know!" he tried to sound non-chalant.

"You suppose I'm upset by Charlotte's marriage, don't you?" I asked, as we stopped and sat down on the grass.

"Um... yes! Yes, I am. Well, aren't you?" he asked.

"No! I'm not upset at all! On the contrary, I'm happy for her! I'm glad, that she wouldn't be mourning over her broken heart, the very heart that I'd broken months ago." I told him, as I lay down on the grass.

"Oh! So, you're not upset?!"

"No, not at all! What gave you that impression, huh?"  
>"Well...I supposed, um, I supposed now that even Charlotte's life has settled down and so did for all of your friends', you might feel lonely and frust..." he stopped, as I scowled at him.<p>

"It seems even you don't know me! I've told you all before, I never believed in love and marriage! I've always hated them! But it seems like you never took my words seriously!" I rudely retorted. Nate was quiet for some time.  
>"So, what's your plan now? Never get married and just grow old? By yourself? You do know, that at some point, your parents will be dead and we won't have time to spend time with you, or see you! What'll you do then? Die alone?" he asked, a bit annoyed by my idea.<br>"Perhaps! I don't plan that far ahead, you know that! I haven't even planned what I'm going to do tomorrow when I'll wake up! Oh, wait! I might, actually!" I realized I was talking like a maniac, as I sat up.

"What? What is it?" asked Nate, curious.

"Aidan has offered me to accompany him to The Soviet Union for a trip." I told him, lying down again.  
>"Oh! And what did you tell him in reply?" he asked.<p>

"I said that I'll think about it."

"I think you should go." Nate shortly advised me.

"Why?"

"Well, um, Vincent told me about the fight you saw, the fight that took place before your arrival here, between your parents." he cleared his throat to sound confident and assertive.  
>"He can never keep anything to himself, can he?" I commented skeptically, heaving a sigh in exasperation. Nate didn't reply. I heaved a sigh again, as I answered,<p>

"So, you think I'm depressed by my parents' fights and should take a break from all this? Bollocks!" I cursed, as I sat up again.

"Nate, I've been watching my parents bloody fight over trivial matters as far as I can remember! I'm used to it. If they managed to not fight with the other for, let's say, a day, I won't be able to digest my food properly. So, drop the worries and pay attention to your married life with Liv. By the way, I heard that you two are planning to have a baby again?! Did I hear right?" I asked, trying to sound enthusiastic, happy and a bit amused, anything to change the subject.

"Yes! Liv wants a girl, but I want a boy." flushed Nate, as he sat up and that was a bit unusual for a man to do. I smiled, as I said,

"Well, I'm happy for you, mate. Goodluck in making your own rugby team!" to him and clapped lightly on his back.

"Thank you." he replied. We were quiet for sometime after that.  
>"Henry?" Nate suddenly called my name.<p>

"Yeah, mate?" I asked, as I lay down on the grass again.

"Um, are you really, um, never going to get married? I mean, do you really mean all those words?" he asked hesitantly, as I heaved a sigh.

For some reasons, despite entering the 20th century, people still want to get married before 25-30 years and must have kids before reaching 35-40 years. If anyone doesn't follow these idiotic rules, then they become outcaste immediately and unquestionably.  
>"Yes. I meant every bloody words I said." I replied, point blank.<p>

"You do know that the reason we're always asking you these not to annoy you, but because we care for you and we're worried about this headstrong idea of yours." he said, hesitant again.

"Don't worry, mate. I understand. In fact, I'm grateful to you lot for worrying about this fellow even when his own parents don't. I'm grateful to you all, mate." I assured him, smiling wryly.

"Well, I should go inside. They must be serving desserts by now. I'm pretty sure Mrs. Browning must've made her famous caramel apple pie and you know I'm a big fan of it." said Nate, as he got up and dusted off the tail of his tuxedo.

"Save some for me, will you, mate?" I asked, as I lay back down with eyes closed. "Sure." he said, as I heard his footsteps slowly fading away in the distance.

A few minutes went by, as I lay on the grass quietly, as I started taking a look back to my miserable life, from where I'd left off.

After grandmother died, I became lonelier. My parents started fighting more than before and my life became a living hell. I remember the nights mostly, when my dad would return home from work, tired; or from bars and night clubs, drunk, or with women much younger than him. My mum would be in the living room then, sipping from her claret, while listening to the gramophone. Whenever my dad would arrive home, either he or mum would start the fights, out of pure intention.  
>At first, it would seem rather like a heated argument. But for those who would find this normal between a couple in a loveless marriage, even they'd be terrified to see the level of violence my parents fights always involved. Slapping, kicking, punching, throwing vases and other stuffs at each other, cursing vehemently, sometimes even biting was included!<br>Where else would I be then, other than hiding in my room's closet, covering my ears with my hands, desperately trying not to pay any attention to the hurricane downstairs, while choking back my tears. All these fights affected my school work heavily.  
>When I was 10, I failed in mathematics, geology, and science; and once, my teacher called my legal guardian, which is neither one of my parents, but my aunt Greta, to school, complaining to her about my use of upset words in essays. It worried her about my upbringing and my future, and so she intervened, and forced my dad to send me off to a boarding school when I turned 11. I was neither upset nor angry for this, rather a wave of relief washed away the depressions, making me immensely happy, thinking that I can now finally escape all these.<p>

At the boarding school, my first few months went horribly, thanks to my know-it-all attitude that pleased my teachers, but displeased my classmates and seniors. As a result, they started teasing and ragging me a lot. I remember that once I had to lick the spit of a senior off the floor as part of the ragging. I felt so sick to my stomach at this, that after doing that, I puked my guts out and was immediately admitted to the school's hospital.

At that time, I watched my seniors practicing rugby in the field in the afternoon, and the way most athletic students were being respected and awarded, made me want to change myself. After I was discharged, I started practising hard, spending my spare times only in studying and playing.  
>When I turned 13, I became regular in the school gym, also a regular champion in all the competitions; sports and study-related alike. I became the most popular and influential student in the entire school, as I broke heaps of records of our school, then our region, and then in the entire country.<br>But even after all this, I couldn't be content. My parents continued with their fights, while I did nothing at all to make friends. A lot of people tried to befriend me, but I blew them off very rudely, regretting it later and changing my mind as a result.

When I went off to Cambridge, I befriended both my roommates, which were Vincent Kingsleigh and Patrick Browning. Then I met Nathaniel Cavendish in fencing practice, and Aidan Garfield in rugby practice, where his team lost to mine. We all were luckily in the same year, in the same college, Trinity College, and so, soon we became best of mates. We were so close to one another, that even 12 years after graduation, we're still best of friends.  
>I started dating in college, after turning 18, though I'd lost my celibacy way before then. My first girlfriend was one of my classmates, Dahlia Carmichael, who was a blonde, talkative girl, a bit like Patrick. I didn't date her for long, as our relationship lasted just for three weeks. It was me, who ended it, after she uttered the word 'marriage' one night, in my dormitory room, on my bed, after we'd made love to each other for the first time.<br>One word, just one word made me panicky, and then, the very next day, I ended it. She slapped me in front of the whole university, on the campus and accused me of using her for carnal relationship. She called me a 'son of a gun' and a 'womanizer', as she stormed out. It made me so angry, that I started thinking about humiliating her too. We went on hatching plots against the other for a year, until my final blow, when I spread a rumour that she'd kissed a girl. It was just a rumour, just like the other false, baseless rumours we'd spread about each other several times before.  
>But for some unknown reasons, she took it seriously and dropped out of the university. I realized that I'd taken it too far. I apologized to her afterward, but she didn't reply me back, just the way Charlotte didn't until tonight.<br>After Dahlia, I dated 8-9 girls, but I was careful this time. I did sleep with them, but never took it too far. And thankfully, most of those ended in less than half a week. They realized that I had no intention of getting serious, so they moved on too. After graduating from the university, I almost stopped dating, only slept with random women, nothing other than that.  
>After graduation, I only dated 5 women in 12 years, if you don't count flirting and one-night stands, until my engagement to Charlotte. I was engaged to her for about 13 months, until I broke it off with her.<br>"Mr. Dryden? Sir? Is that you, sir?" a masculine voice from behind brought me back to the present from the yesteryears' memories. I turned my head, saw him and got up. It was Derek, who was walking towards me, with his hat in his hands.  
>"Derek? What are you doing here so early? The party isn't finished yet." I asked him, as I got up.<br>"I know that, sir. It's just, um, ..." he hesitated.  
>"What is it, Derek?" I asked, frowned.<p>

Derek was my personal chauffer, and one of the most polite, loyal, modest and trusted drivers I'd ever seen. He was 39, few years older than me, happily married, with a woman named Genevive Sutherland and has a 6-years old boy, Xavier. I fancied Derek more than other servants, for he was close to me and never hid anything. So his hesitation surprised me.  
>"It's, um, it's Ginny, sir. She's in labour pain and was taken to hospital few minutes ago. I just learnt about it when I called to check on her. They said that she needs me, but, um, ..." he hesitated again.<p>

"Then what are you waiting for? Go to the hospital immediately! For God's sake, you don't need my permission for that!" I scolded him a bit.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you very much. I'll be back in an hour, sir, I promise." he smiled gratefully.  
>"Don't! Stay at the hospital. Take a leave for a week. She'll need you then. Your child will need you. You don't need to be back in an hour. I can manage." I assured him.<p>

"Alright, sir. Then here's the car key..." he said as I stopped him.

"Nonsense! Take the car! You can return it later. Right now, your wife needs you the most. Go there as fast as you can. I can hire a taxi. Or Patrick can lend me his car. But you need to leave right now. Leave!" I urged him.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you, thank you very much." he smiled brightly, as he took off.  
>"He's way too modest!" I thought inwardly, as I headed to the house to join my friends and ask Patrick if any of their drivers can give me a ride.<br>"Hey, fellas! Did you all gallop all the pies, or saved some for me?" I smiled brightly, as I joined the small crowd my friends made near the almost-desolate banquet hall.

"Where were you?! You missed all the drama!" Aidan asked me, amused by something.  
>"What drama? What just happened here? Huh?" I asked, puzzled by his talks.<p>

"Fredrick just proposed to Regina!" Vincent informed me, excited.

"What?! He proposed? When? How?" I was surprised too.  
>Patrick's younger brother, Fredrick Browning was not very younger than us. He's 30 and had been dating a woman named Regina Hemingway for three years, who worked as his mother's former assistant for 5 months, until they officialy became a couple.<br>"He proposed her right after the dinner ended, in front of everyone, kneeling down in one knee! She also didn't hesitate in saying 'yes' to him! I'm so happy for them!" Vincent smiled like a little baby, ecstatic.

"Yeah, yeah! So are we, but enough with the poofy enthusiasm, Mr. Nancy!" Patrick joked sourly.  
>"What's with him?" I asked, frowned while gesturing at Patrick.<p>

"It's nothing! He's just upset because Fredrick stole all the thunder. So childish, Pattie!" joked Nate, as Patrick made a face at him.  
>"Anyway, hey Patrick, listen, I need a ride home now. Derek's at the hospital, his wife's in labour and so I let him borrow the car. Could you ask James or Andrew if they can drive me home?" I asked Patrick.<p>

"No need! Freddie can do that. He 'stole' all the thunder, now he must drive you home. I'll just go and fetch him." Patrick was about to leave, but I stopped him.

"Don't bother. Just tell me where I can find him and I'll ask him." I tried to be modest, but Patrick insisted.  
>"He'll agree if I force him." he started walking with me.<br>We went out of the banquet hall and through the main hall, as a servant told us that he'd seen Fredrick going to the terrace with Regina. We went straight to the terrace, but we regretted entering without knocking.  
>"Jesus, Freddie! You could've gone to your room!" Patrick scolded his younger brother, as we caught him kissing Regina passionately out on the terrace. I looked the other way, as soon as I caught the sight, but it was enough to make Regina blush.<p>

"Excuse me! I need to use the powder room." she blushed, as she hurried to get out of there.  
>"Good evening, Regina. How are you?" I tried to be polite to her, as she was walking past me.<br>"Fine. Thank you." she quickly replied.

I knew Regina, for Fredrick introduced her to us, at Patrick's engagement dinner. She's a 28-years old brunette girl, with Plain Jane fashion sense. But tonight, she was wearing a V-neck violet gown and a pearl necklace. They'd waited this long for Patrick's marriage, who was also waiting for Jacqualine's elder sisters to get married.  
>I chuckled, realizing her embarrassment.<br>"You could've knocked!" complained Fredrick, not feeling shy at all.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot my manners, just like you forgot to have any shame!" Patrick scolded him.  
>"Sod off!" muttered Fredrick, while lighting up his cigarette, as Patrick scowled at him.<p>

"Anyway, I want you to drive Henry to his house, now." Patrick ordered him, while smoking.

"Tell James to do that! I'm tired..." his complaint was cut short by Patrick.

"James had gone to drop off aunt Imogene and uncle Ezra. And Andrew's going to drop Regina off to her house. So, it's going to be you. Now get your lazy arse out to the garage and get Henry to his house!" Patrick pushed him literally.

"Fine! Don't shove me! I'm going!" Fredrick muttered grumpily.

"Sorry about this inconvenience, mate!" I apologized, as he took out the car from the garage.

"Don't worry, mate! I can certainly do this even if Pat hadn't ordered me to do." Fredrick assured me, as I got into his car.  
>"Thank you, mate." I said, as I closed the door.<p>

"Anytime."

"Hey, by the way, congratulations on your engagement! I'm happy for you. I wish you the best!" I tried to sound enthusiastic about it.  
>"Thank you. I thought you hate marriage! What happened to that? Did you change your mind about it? About marriage?" he asked, while keeping his eyes on the road.<p>

"No! But, I still haven't forgotten my manners!" I clarified.

"So, you think I'm ruining my life?" he asked.

"Um, well, I don't have the right to judge your decisions. It's your life after all. You can do whatever you want!" I defended myself.  
>"Hmmm! Quite an answer!" he lightly commented. I smiled.<br>The rest of the ride went silently.

"Thanks for the ride, mate! Again, sorry for the inconvenience!" I said, as I got out of the car.  
>"No problem. Goodnight, Henry! Sleep well!" saying so, he started the engine again.<p>

"Goodnight!" I told him back, as I waved at him and then turned to the entrance.  
>When I entered the foyer, I saw lights coming from the hall. I realized that either mum and dad were still awake, or perhaps it was Fritz, still waiting for me to return. I wished for the latter.<br>"Ah! Our beloved King Henry the VIII has finally returned! Welcome home, Your Majesty!" I heard dad welcoming me, like a mad man literally, as soon as I entered the hall. I realized that he was dead drunk. I decided to ignore him, as I kept mum and walked towards the staircase.  
>"A bit late, sir? Did the party end late?" Fritz politely asked me, in a low voice, as we both heard dad calling me King Henry the VIII repeatedly.<br>"A bit. Did Derek call? How's his wife?" I asked, as soon as I remembered.

"Yes, sir, he did. His wife's fine, so is his new-born daughter. They named her Emily, sir." he informed me.  
>"Good! Buy a doll for her, as a gift from me."<p>

"Of course, sir. Should I bring some water for you, sir?" he asked me, as he took my hat and coat.  
>"Sure." I replied, as I took a step towards the stairs.<br>"About time you returned, Henry!" I heard my mum calling me from behind. I ignored her too and started ascending the stairs.  
>"Oh! So now you're going to ignore me! Some son you are!" she grimaced.<br>"Oh! So I'm not an ideal son! What about you, miss 'Ideal Mother Of The Year'? Huh? What've you done so far to call yourself so, huh?!" I thought inwardly, instead of throwing those words on her face.  
>"Henry! Your mother's talking to you. Pay heed to her." my dad ordered me, as he got up and stumbled closer to the stairs.<br>"I don't care!" I muttered under my breath, as I kept on ascending the stairs.

"Henry! Come back here this instant!" my dad screamed at me.  
>That did it! I clenched my fists, gritted my teeth and tightened my jaws, as I turned.<br>"What do you want me to listen, huh? Your arguments? Or your fights? I don't want to, because I've been listening to all your bloody fights ever since the damn year I was born! You two haven't left a single day of my life without fighting with each other!" I yelled at them.  
>"HOW DARE YOU?" my dad screamed at me, his veins on his face almost visible.<p>

"How dare you yell at me?" he kept on screaming.

"I have acquired that right, because you gave it to me, by being the world's worst parents of all time!" I yelled back.  
>"We're the worst parents! How dare you! We gave birth to you! We fed you, we nurtured you! How could you call us that?" mum's voice was rising too.<p>

"Oh! Do you want me to give you a list? Fine. I'll give you a list! You wanted to abort me, kill me before I was even born! If grandfather and grandmother hadn't stopped you, I might not be even born! After that, you two neglected me to the extreme. You wouldn't hold me, or come near me! Mum wouldn't even breast-feed me. She hired a wet nurse to do it, so that her figure wouldn't get ruined! You two didn't even bother to teach me alphabets. You hired a governess to do so! You wouldn't tuck me to bed, because you two were so busy fighting with each other! Because of witnessing your fights all the time, I even learnt to curse before I could learn how to write! You two never cared for me! Even when I met with that accident last year, you two still fought with each other! You two were never there for me! Then why shouldn't I call you the worst parents, huh? Answer me! Sometimes, I feel as if grandfather and grandmother hadn't given me their properties, you'd left me in a gutter to rot and die after their death. Even your own parents saw your true colours, and almost ousted you!" I stopped, because my throat was aching from screaming at them for too long. Mum and dad were quiet for a while, looking down. I was panting, literally gasping for air. I felt moisture in my eyes and soon realized I was crying.  
>"Darn it!" I muttered under my breath, as I hid it from them, turned around and headed to the exit.<br>"Sir? Where are you going?" I heard Fritz calling me from behind.

"To the out-house. I'm going to sleep there tonight." I told him, as he followed me.  
>The outhouse wasn't very far. It was about 40 feet away from the main house. I started spending most of the nights there once I turned 14, to avoid the fights. It was a two-storeyed cottage, with a balcony and a small kitchen.<br>"Thank you, Fritz. You can go sleep now. But do wake me tomorrow before 8am. I need to do something." I told him, as he closed the curtains of my room.  
>"Certainly, sir. Goodnight, sir." saying so, he headed towards the door.<p>

After he closed the door and left, I rolled over to my sides for several times, battling with confusion. Then, after about an hour of confusion, I finally sat up and leaned towards my bed-side table, to bring the telephone. I dialled a number and it rang for a few seconds, before the call was received. "Hmmmm...helloww!" I heard Aidan's sleepy voice on the other side.

"It's Henry! Sorry, did I disturb you, mate?" I checked the wall-clock. It was 2am.

"Hmmmm... not much. What is it?"

"Um, I wanted to ask you, if your offer to accompany you to the Soviet Union for a trip is still available or not?" I was praying for a 'yes'.  
>"Hmmmm... yeah. Do you want to come?"<p>

"Yes. When are you going?"

"Tomorrow. Come to my house at 9am. We'll start together."

"Thanks. I will. Thank you, Aid."

"Hmmmm...goodnight." he ended the call before I could reply anything.

"Goodnight to you too."

I smiled, as I put the telephone away and put the quilt over my head.


End file.
